


In the direction of north

by YumGrapeJuice



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Introspection, Morally Grey Characters, Panic, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), i repeat NO ONE DIES, it's not all bad I promise, mild though, no dies though don't worry, no one is thinking straight lol, no respawning, people die if they are killed, well it depends on what you define as "bad" i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumGrapeJuice/pseuds/YumGrapeJuice
Summary: At some point, much before all this, the sight had been one of comfort and reassurance. At some point, before it all went down to hell, he’d feel relief and safety when around this once welcoming man.Now, with Sam standing high up above, putting away his crossbow and retrieving a sword without a moment’s hesitation, all there was left was despair.“Sam, please,” he choked out, the tears scorching his skin. “Please, don’t—”“You were warned, Ranboo,” Sam cut him off, cold, as he continued treading through the snow with ease. “You knew this would happen if you helped him.”Or, the wavers state that if you do anything that results in the prisoner's escape, you will be hunted down and killed as punishment. Ranboo learns just how unforgiving the rules can be first-hand. He learns some other things, too.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 162





	In the direction of north

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write something with Ranboo for a loooong while so here I am lmao
> 
> Some notes before you go on: this has some of my personal headcanons and not necessarily how stuff is actually in the smp. The beauty of fanfiction:D This was _also_ written before the whole thing with Tommy went down, soooo,,, I'm not painting anyone as the villain here, so if that's not ur type of thing, welp
> 
> lol but it's actually quite funny how with all the characters you kinda go like "hmmm ok how do i make them in character" and with dream it's just like "so what headcanon are we going with today?❤️"
> 
> Hope u enjoy ey

Ranboo never liked the cold.

It was nipping, sharp on his skin, and heavy on his mind. It’d make his body sluggish, uncomfortable to be in. As a relatively cold-blooded creature, the sun and warmth was where he’d thrive, not the chilliness of tundras and taigas.

The cold was where he found a home, though, so he’d grown to tolerate it. When you didn’t experience anything else, it was easy to grow used to what you had.

Now, however, with every inch of him _burning_ , he’d give anything for just a bit of reprieve.

But the snow was merciless and instead of cooling him, it only trapped his feet, dragged him down, made him stumble again and again, and Ranboo wanted to cry. Why, why _, why_ was the place that was supposed to be safe, supposed to be his _home_ , was now a field with no escape, a hunting ground not for animals, but for him?

Though, at this moment, was he any different from them? Racing through an endless forest, lungs on fire, heart climbing out of his throat, no idea where to go except for _away far away as far away as possible_ —was he any different from a beast? Was he not a person, but a prey, whose primal instincts he couldn’t control?

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, it was about survival, and right now, if he didn’t run, that’d truly be the end of the day.

He couldn’t remember the last time such terror coursed through him. The type that shut down all rationale and forced your body to either fight the threat or to flee. At first, though, seeing Sam emerge from over the hill paralyzed him. Even before, Ranboo would quickly become on edge around him, the clear suspicion and tension clouding the air around them, but this time—this time it was different. He knew this time was different, and he knew Sam wasn’t here for a friendly visit. Some part of him had hoped that perhaps it’d all been a misunderstanding, that Sam _wasn’t_ aware, that no one had figured it out, but that meek hope was crushed the instance Sam locked onto him, froze, and withdrew his crossbow.

That was when the terror made him _run._

In hindsight, it’d been idiotic to remain there, where Sam knew he’d be, but Ranboo didn’t know where else to go. It was his _home_ , as cold and barren as it was, but it was _his_ little haven. He’d hoped, foolishly, no one would suspect him long enough for him to figure out what he should do next. He’d hoped, naively, no one would come for him as long as he was around others, around Techno and Phil. And maybe it would have worked, but Sam’d known _, somehow_ he’d known the time when those two wouldn’t be here. Maybe it was planned. Maybe it was just luck. Maybe Ranboo had been too caught up in his panic to realize how dangerous staying here would be regardless of anything, but. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, and hindsight wasn’t going to help him keep his life.

So he ran, he ran as the freezing air clawed at his chest, as his vision grew blurry, as his aching legs worked on pure adrenaline. He ran, nothing but desperation fueling him, desperation to stay alive, desperation to get away.

He ran, until a bolt from behind pierced through his shoulder. With a choked cry, the pain tripped him, and he tumbled to the ground, rolling a good way through the powdery snow. Stars crashed behind his eyes, and the world spun, as Ranboo tried to regain the air lost to him, clenching the quickly draining wound. God, it _hurt,_ everything around him _hurt_ , every single nerve on fire, screeching, and he couldn’t think, it was all screams _pain crying burning—_

“You’re making this harder than it has to be, Ranboo,” a voice, chilling and low, breached through the mist of agony, and dread crashed over him. _No please oh god_

Gasping and heaving, Ranboo tried to scramble up, to get his face out of the snow, and there was blood everywhere, stark purple against the white, _so much_ , _disorienting,_ but the crunching was growing closer. It was getting so near that out of sheer panic Ranboo managed to lift himself on his knees, cradling his shoulder, as his eyes darted around wildly until landing on a figure in between the spruces, on its indifferent gas mask.

At some point, much before all this, the sight had been one of comfort and reassurance. At some point, before it all went down to hell, he’d feel relief and safety when around this once welcoming man.

Now, with Sam standing high up above, putting away his crossbow and retrieving a sword without a _moment’s_ hesitation, all there was left was despair.

“Sam, please,” he choked out, the tears scorching his skin. “Please, _don’t—_ ”

“You were warned, Ranboo,” Sam cut him off, cold, as he continued treading through the snow with ease. “You knew this would happen if you helped him.”

“I didn’t!” Ranboo wanted to scream, but all that came out was a pathetic wail. “I—I didn’t do a-anything, I wouldn’t, I—”

_but you did_

“If you’re innocent, why did you run, then?” Sam retorted, and the silence rang with the question that Ranboo couldn’t answer. _Because you were hunting me, because I had to, because I want to_ live _—_ ”We both know you’re not. I’m sorry, Ranboo, but you brought this upon yourself.”

Sobbing, he shook his head, frantic. He had to get up, he had to _get away get away_ but his trembling legs were frozen, and purple was gushing out, soaking through his clothes, adrenaline quickly draining, with hopelessness taking its place.

This couldn’t be happening.

_This can’t be happening._

“Please, y-you—you don’t—you don’t have to do this,” he whimpered. “Can’t we—Is there no other way? Sam, you _can’t—_ ”

“You knew what the rules were, you knew the consequences you’d have to face if you broke them,” Sam said, and Ranboo wondered if his face looked as unforgiving as his voice sounded. “I can’t make an exception, Ranboo. Even if I wish I could.”

Ranboo couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth. Or if it was just to make the desperation flail higher.

“I didn’t want to do it!” a scream broke through, and the way his body shook sent pangs of agony from the wound. “I couldn’t control it, I—I—I’m not okay, you know I’m not okay, I didn’t mean to do any of it, I don’t even know—I don’t even know _what_ I did!..”

_you do_

_you just refuse to accept it_

_there’s no point in running from it anymore_

_stop running_

_stop_

“Then you should have told me about it when you had the chance. Now it’s too late, I’m afraid. We’ve crossed that bridge and you’ve burnt it.”

That was what Ranboo kept doing, it seemed. Burning bridges without intending to. He never wanted for anyone to get hurt, he never wanted to get involved in _anything_ , but what he wanted never mattered. It didn’t matter then, it didn’t matter now. He’d long since lost grip on his life, and now he was about to lose it for good.

And he never even figured out _why._

Why he couldn’t remember. Why he did things he never would. Why was he so intent on turning everyone against him. Why he threw his life away like this. Why, why, _why why_

He’d never been the one in control. All he’d been doing was living in an illusion he himself created. Because the reality was too much to bear.

“I’m sorry, Ranboo, I really am,” Sam spoke, softer now, as he continued stepping closer. “I wish it didn’t have to end like this.”

The reality that when he’d die had been decided for him without him realizing.

“That’s enough, Sam.”

The voice made Ranboo freeze.

He knew it. He knew it _too well_ , much more than he’d ever wanted, much more than anyone ever should. But now it wasn’t in his head, and suddenly, Ranboo couldn’t breathe.

_no it couldn’t be oh god_

Ranboo’s vision spun as he snapped his head in its direction, catching sight of the person that's been haunting him for months. He threaded through the spruces, a sad excuse of a man once been, no poise in his step, just a thin cloak around his slender shoulders, bandaged hands raised, a simple short sword hung on him. Ranboo had never seen him up close, not really, and especially not without his mask, but somehow, his mind was having issues connecting the dots between an idea and the man before him. There was… nothing to him. No cunning smile, no fiery gaze, just hollowed cheeks and dull eyes, fraying fabric and skin on bones. 

He was having issues getting through the snow. _He was having issues getting through the snow._

“...Dream,” Sam spoke, and there was an edge there. He’d paused in his approach. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And that’s the issue, Sam,” he responded, slowly but steadily growing nearer. “What’re you doing hunting nobodies like _Ranboo_ instead of looking for me?”

This was the second time Dream had indirectly addressed Ranboo and both were insults. He was beginning to see a pattern.

It made no sense why Dream would be here, though.

Wasn’t he supposed to be getting far away?

“Ranboo was a direct cause for your escape, Dream,” Sam said, and the biting statement, finally voiced, wretched another helpless sob out of Ranboo. “And you know what the punishment for that is.”

“Oh, please,” Dream scoffed as he finally stopped to face Sam, in between him and Ranboo. He couldn’t see his expression anymore, and that was both a relief and anxiety-inducing. “You’re giving him too much credit. He was a distraction _at best_ , and even that’s reaching. You seriously think I’d trust anyone, let alone _Ranboo_ , with any more than that?”

Even if it was coming from Dream, even if some part of him knew it was true, that he _was_ incapable and couldn’t be relied on, it still stung.

And even though the merciless words made his throat hurt, confusion only grew—why was Dream standing in front of him, then?

“You’re trying to twist what really happened,” Sam replied, unyielding. His sword was still at the ready. “No matter his involvement, Ranboo still violated the rules by helping you. Nothing you say is going to change that.”

It made no sense why Dream _would_ want to change that. To, what, save his reputation, whatever was left of it? To not make anyone think he had to rely on someone? Was the thought that unbearable to him?

“I’m not trying to change it,” Dream protested. “You’re just wasting your time. I mean, look at him!” He gestured back at Ranboo, making him flinch. The short glimpse he got of Dream’s expression caused his insides to twist. It was mocking. “He’s defenseless! It’s stupidly easy making him do whatever you want to. He can’t act for himself, he can’t even think for himself, and he knows it!” Dream narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t you, Ranboo?”

The buildup of burning tears choked him, and he couldn’t muster out a word. He desperately wanted to deny it all, to cling onto the idea of this twisted sense of control he’d convinced himself of, even after being proven wrong time and time again. Here Dream stood, the very reason for all of his self-doubt and hatred, and here he was spewing venomous insults that Ranboo had tried so hard to keep down. They sunk into his heart, into his mind, overlapping with his own hisses, the lines between the two blurring.

The waves were crashing over his head, salty water rushing into his lungs.

“He’s worthless to you, Sam.”

And he would have let them drown him, if not for the undeniable fact he was still alive.

Ranboo was still alive. Gasping and heaving, still losing blood, darkness swirling at the edges of his vision, but _alive._

He shouldn’t have been. Sam had been so close, his sword prepared to put Ranboo out of his misery, but now Dream was blocking it, standing between him and death, firm.

If all of it was true, if Ranboo had never been anything more than a plaything, convenient at the right place at the right time, disposable, without value, why not let him end like one?

Sam shifted on his feet. Even with the mask on, he looked uncomfortable.

“...Dream, I can’t let him walk free regardless if you take full accountability,” he said, taking a step forward. “The most I can do is imprison him and reevaluate what punishment would be more fitting. If you come with me willingly, I promise no harm will come to him until then.”

Somehow, _somehow,_ Dream managed to talk Sam out of delivering Ranboo an immediate death penalty. Or maybe gave him enough reason not to. Either way, Dream was here, before him, bargaining for Ranboo’s life without any comprehensible motive while endangering his own.

And that in and of itself was one of the scariest thoughts he’d ever had.

_What the hell is happening?_

Dream made a sound of disapproval, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well, that’s gonna be a bit of a problem,” he drawled, and the way Sam tensed didn’t go unnoticed. Dream straightened in response. “See, I have no plans of ever going back to that place. Ranboo’s not going there either. Instead, I propose this.” He clapped. “You leave Ranboo alone, he goes to some nice savanna, finds a cousin or two, sets up a small house, and forgets all about me and you. Like he always does! Isn’t that right, Ranboo?” Dream glanced back at him again. There was a glimmer of something in those dull eyes of his. “You’ll forget all about this, won’t you?”

Ranboo gaped at him, trying to form any sort of response amidst the tremors and fear, but all he could muster was feverish nodding when Dream’s stare turned fiery at his silence.

God, this was pathetic.

“See? Not a threat. And as for me, well.” He gestured vaguely. “I go in the opposite direction, and you focus on what actually matters. Leave the small fry be.”

Sam gripped the sword with both hands.

“Is this how you really want to do this, Dream?” he spoke, low. “I _will_ take both of you in, dead or alive.”

Ranboo didn’t miss how, for a moment, Dream faltered, something about Sam’s tone making him stiffen. A blink later, though, it was gone, and Dream retrieved his own weapon and took a more defensive stance.

The air was seething with tension.

“Ranboo,” Dream called, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He could only see Dream’s back, and even though his eyes were focused on Sam, Ranboo could almost feel them boring into him. “Get up.”

Stupefied, it took Ranboo a good second to register the command. Not a request, an order, leaving no room for arguments. And though it was frightening, the way it made Ranboo scramble to his feet without protest, a sharp ache igniting in his shoulder once more, it was also relieving. Right now, he didn’t know what to do. How to get out. Too high on pain and panic to think straight, he’d take any sort of direction to follow. Anything to ground him, anything to latch onto.

Questions of _should he_ were left at the very back of his mind.

“If you run, I’ll chase you, Ranboo,” Sam warned him. “And I will catch you. Surrender now, and you won’t get hurt, I promise.”

“Bullshit,” Dream snapped. “You’ll throw him in a cell and let him rot. That’s not happening.”

“Alright, then how about this?” Sam sidestepped, and now Ranboo could see him better. “Help me apprehend Dream. Fix your mistake, right here, right now, and I’ll make sure your sentence is lessened considerably. You might even get to walk free.”

Dream stiffened. His shoulders tensed in preparation for a fight, and for a moment, Ranboo thought he’d swing around and finish off what Sam had started. But he stayed rooted in place. He didn’t glance back, even though his head turned a bit to the side, and his free hand, hanging by his side, twitched in anticipation.

Dream should realize Ranboo had no real reason not to take the offer. Ranboo wasn’t the one that helped Dream, he wasn’t the one Dream had put… _trust_ in, wasn’t the one that had some sort of “relationship” with him. If anything, this whole ordeal had wrecked Ranboo’s life entirely. It got him onto death’s doorstep. He never wanted any of it, but still got dragged into it against his will. 

And now Sam was offering a way out. However uncertain.

Dream had said it himself. He could only trust the other state of Ranboo. Not this one. This one hated Dream. This one wanted Dream as far away as possible, never again in sight. This one convinced himself he knew what was right and what was wrong.

Sam was right.

And Dream was wrong.

But Sam raised his weapon against him.

And Dream stood in its path.

If Ranboo knew what was right, how come he was on the wrong side?

If Dream knew Ranboo wanted to be right, how come Dream didn’t care about being wrong?

None of this made sense. Dream’s words did, his actions and the setting didn’t. Ranboo would expect to hear such things in front of a crowd, like back at the Community House when Dream exposed him as a traitor, a way to mock, a way to show off his control, a way to trample over Ranboo further. He would expect to see him standing ways against him, maybe even to the side, uncaring of the position, uncaring of it all. Celebrating his triumph. Not in the middle of a desolate forest, malnourished, barely armed, in front of Ranboo, the only thing protecting him.

The last thought made him freeze. Like electricity, it lit his nerves up, and for a second, he experienced vertigo. The air grew thick, too thick to breathe in, the pressure behind his eyes building, bleeding into a dull headache, and his mouth dried as horror, confusion, mania sunk in. Dug into his bones, this twisted sensation of bewilderment, and he wondered why everything suddenly sounded so crisp, so clear that he could almost hear Sam’s breathing from this far away.

And then it dawned on him. His mind, for the first time in however long he could remember, was silent. So silent, that he couldn’t think at all. Couldn’t process anything.

There was nothing there, apart from that last thought. Still echoing.

It shouldn’t have been this surprising, perhaps. Logically, he knew, if he’d been working with Dream, Dream had been protecting him all this time by not telling anyone about Ranboo’s involvement in anything. But logically, he also knew that had to be out of self-interest. Out of the expectation that eventually, it would pay off, that it would be worth it. And it was, wasn’t? Ranboo helped him get out. No one had suspected a thing leading up to it. By keeping Ranboo out of anyone’s minds, Dream was protecting both of them.

This time, though, he wasn’t just not talking about Ranboo. This time, he had nothing to gain from it. Dream had to realize Ranboo owed him nothing and _would_ owe him nothing. He had to realize, at the first chance Ranboo would get, he’d take any opportunity to put Dream where he belonged, especially if it meant saving his own life.

Dream had absolutely nothing to win from this, and everything to lose.

The snow crunched beneath as Ranboo took a step backwards. Then another.

Sam tensed, and moved more to the side.

“Ranboo—”

“Eyes on the prize, Sam,” Dream cut him off as he mirrored Sam’s movement, and Ranboo could hear the slight grin in his voice. His hand stopped twitching. “You’re making me feel unimportant.”

“Don’t do this, Ranboo,” Sam warned, ignoring Dream. “We can still make this work!”

“You were going to kill me,” Ranboo heard himself speak, ragged, barely above a whisper. He stepped back again.

Dream huffed out a laugh.

“He was! And he still might try, given the chance.” Dream looked over his shoulder at him. “So don’t be a moron, Ranboo. Get the fuck out of here while you still can.”

“No, wait—!”

But Ranboo had turned around, and he _sprinted._

He ran through the thick forest, through the ankle-deep snow, uncaring if he was leaving a blood trail, uncaring of the direction, just away, as far away from it all as possible.

He didn’t dare to look back.

He ran, until he was out of the woods and in the rolling fields. He ran, until the snow beneath his feet melted away, replaced by browning grass. He ran, until he couldn’t, until the pain grew too much, until he was on the edge of fainting. There were no sounds behind him, no shouting, and so he slowed, letting his frantic body come to a stop by a stray tree. Fighting for air, he rested on his knees, and cast a glance towards the direction he’d come from.

Aside from a few wandering cows, he was alone as far as he could see.

Ranboo watched the faraway treeline for a bit longer, heaving, until he deemed it safe and he allowed himself to collapse onto the ground. He dragged himself towards the bark and leaned against it, putting his head back. Gingerly, he reached up to touch the wound on his shoulder, hissing at the contact. His hand came away purple. It was still bleeding, albeit less. Once the high passed, there was no doubt the pain would be awful.

God, this was a mess _._

Ranboo closed his eyes, and for awhile, only listened to the wind. Maybe it was unsafe, maybe he was supposed to be trying to get to a safer location, but right now, exhaustion wrecked him, and he could barely muster enough energy to breathe. 

Definitely not enough for self-control.

It took Ranboo a moment to realize the broken choked sounds that disturbed the quiet were coming from him, and the stinging on his cheeks wasn’t from rain. His hands laid limp by his sides, though, and he let his body shake with sobs, let the tears stream down his face, leaving burns in their wake. There was no one around to listen, and so he cried to the fields, cried until he’d cried it all out.

Slowly, when the air silenced, he brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them, burying in them his freshly scarred face. An occasional hiccup still wretched out of him, but there were no more tears left, and all he wanted was to disappear.

He’d been so _terrified._

The scene kept replaying in his head. The way Sam approached haunted him, the mere memory reigniting the panic. The chilling dread, the realization he might actually _die_ there, alone and afraid, would cause him nightmares for days on end. And then there was _Dream._

The confusion was maddening. It tore his mind apart, and Ranboo wanted to scream. He didn’t know what to do, where to even start figuring this out, whether he even wanted to figure this out. Would it be better to know? Or would he rather not dare? Which would cause him to break more?

He couldn’t do this. He could no longer pretend he could.

~~

Sam shoved Dream’s face in the ground, panting, as he dug a knee into his spine to keep him down. Dream groaned in pain, no doubt the gash across his jaw agitated by the contact, but otherwise didn’t struggle anymore. Sam shifted more weight onto his back as he retrieved some rope from his pouch and tugged Dream’s hands behind him harshly, tying them together. He left a long tail and attached the end of it to his own wrist. No way was he taking any chances.

“Stay down,” he ordered, still trying to catch his breath as he lifted himself up.

He placed a foot on Dream’s back to make sure he followed the command as he took out his communicator. He sent a quick message to his guards, informing them of the situation, and requesting them to be present at the northern entry of the main lands. It’d be a long trip back, and Sam was more than capable to bring Dream the entire way, but extra security wouldn’t hurt. If only one of them had gone with Sam in the first place, perhaps they’d have caught both fugitives.

But, to be fair, when Sam had set out, he hadn’t expected to encounter _Dream._

Neither him nor Ranboo did, by the looks of it. The guy had all but gone into a state of shock. Not that Sam had nothing to do with it to begin with.

The swirling guilt was all too familiar to him by this point. Those rules had been written down mostly for intimidation purposes. He hadn’t actually thought someone would break them. And not Ranboo of all people.

There was more to it, Sam knew. Some part of him had always known there was something wrong with him, something that even Ranboo himself had expressed, but strict boundaries had been crossed. If Ranboo had suspected he could be a danger to himself or others and could not be trusted, especially in regards to Dream, he should have come to Sam about it. Maybe they would have figured something out, and maybe they wouldn’t have now ended up in this situation. But Ranboo didn’t, and Sam had been left with no choice.

Although… Sam glanced down at Dream, who was still heaving and trying to keep the snow from out of his mouth, silent. He’d been much more talkative than Sam had last seen him, and though each word had grated his nerves, Sam had to admit they’d made him pause. If Ranboo had indeed had no control of his actions, he shouldn’t be faulted as if he did. That didn’t abstain him from blame entirely, but it was something that had to be taken into consideration. Anger flailed in his chest once more, and he pressed down harder, making Dream choke out a small gasp. Of course Dream would take advantage of someone this vulnerable. That was right up his alley, wasn’t it?

Sam should have expected this. He should have done more to prevent it. The moment he suspected something to be off with Ranboo, he should have done whatever it took to get information about it out of Dream. He’d hoped Ranboo would come to him instead, but… Helping someone who didn’t ask for it was borderline impossible. Knowing that didn’t make him feel any less worse, though.

“Alright, get up,” Sam said as he stepped back from Dream and yanked on the rope. “You try anything, I’ll break your legs and _drag_ you back, understood?”

Dream struggled onto his feet in silence, a difficult task with his hands tied. His expression was back to the unreadable one, shoulders hunched, eyes dull once more, and Sam let himself relax a bit. Dream had no fight left in him, he could see as much. That’d make his job easier.

It was surprising Dream’d had any in the first place, honestly. Considering how he’d gotten during the last couple of weeks in his cell, that is.

Maybe it was all a play. You could never tell with him.

Dream rarely made sense, and this incident was no exception.

Sam glanced to where Ranboo had disappeared and frowned behind his mask.

Dream _really_ didn’t make sense at times. Something was missing here.

As Sam led Dream through the forest, back towards the portal, his mind kept replaying the scene over and over. Trying to piece it together. In the time Dream had been free, he could have gotten so far they would have had next to no chance of finding him again. Truthfully speaking, Sam had expected it. He’d been determined to catch him eventually, but he also had known the chances of that happening were slim.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence Dream was here today. So close to where Ranboo lived.

Or maybe Dream did make sense. In the same way that anyone else who wasn’t fucked up would.

It was ironic, in a way. That this was how he’d gotten himself caught.

In the end, even Dream couldn’t practice what he preached, it seemed.

It was only tragic Ranboo had to have gotten caught in it. Anyone that Dream set his eyes on could never have a happy end, Dream would always make sure of it. This? This was a prime example.

Sam would never let him forget how he’d ruined yet another innocent’s life.

“He won’t get far,” Sam broke the silence after a long while of nothing. They’d left the forest. “He knows what he did is wrong and he’ll eventually find his way back. He hates you too much to live with what he’d done.”

Sam could see how taut Dream’s shoulder had gotten. He could see how he tried to relax them. He’d gotten worse at concealing his emotions. Good.

It must have hurt, seeing all this effort go to waste. Sam hoped it did. Sam hoped Dream was going through all the things he’d done to get here, all the strings he pulled, all the pain he’d caused, and he hoped the bitterness of having it all go down the drain in a matter of minutes was scathing. 

But all that was nothing. Whatever Dream was experiencing now was nothing _._

Sam was going to put Dream through _hell_ for what he’d pulled.

~~

Ranboo glanced at his pocket watch.

His hands were shaking, and darkness had fallen, but he still managed to make out the hands of the clock.

Eleven fifteen.

Alright. Plenty of time still. He probably shouldn’t check it so often—it wouldn’t make it go different—but something about the steady ticking, unaffected by his racing heart, was reassuring. 

And god knew he needed that.

With a deep breath, Ranboo put away his watch and took a step closer to the gates of the prison.

The looming black structure had always intimidated him. Even when it was still being built, Ranboo would keep his distance, its mere presence a heavy weight on the land. Only before, it was just healthy wariness. Sure, with it, the prison brought unease, but before, Ranboo wouldn’t give it much thought. Perhaps it was a bit over the top, but a necessity in the end. Understandable. Not a concern.

Lately, though, Ranboo would stare at it from a hill, hugging himself, before he’d tear his eyes away, mouth dried out.

And now, his hand was hovering over the intercom button.

He’d been here before, of course. But that had been different. Everything had been different, then. Now, though…

Now he feared he might faint before he as much as knocked.

Technically, he didn’t have to be here. No one was forcing him. If he turned around and fled, that’d be it. The land was quiet, most having already retreated for the night, and with Dream locked up again, there were less patrols on the roads, too. Easy to slip through, easy to get around.

If it weren’t this easy, maybe Ranboo wouldn’t have convinced himself to come.

So, really, whether it was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.

Another glance.

Eleven seventeen.

He shouldn’t waste any more time.

Ranboo curled his fingers, uncurled, shut his eyes, and pressed the button.

For a few seconds, there was silence. Ranboo had begun to hope no one was present and therefore he should _turn around and never come back_ , but then, a scratched voice spoke through the intercom:

“Yes?”

Ranboo’s vision swam. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

It was getting hard to breathe.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

He took a shaky inhale.

Now or never.

“Sam, it’s—” Another. “It’s me.”

He shouldn’t waver. He couldn’t afford to.

Sam was quiet. It didn’t help with the growing heaviness in his bones.

If he ran now, maybe they wouldn’t be quick enough, he had some pearls in his pouch, if he ran _now_ , he could still maybe get away, if—

“Ranboo,” Sam spoke, finally, cutting off his panicked thoughts. “So you came.”

His tone was unreadable.

It was hard to tell if the black dots were from the dark or terror.

“Y-Yeah,” Ranboo breathed out. “I’ve—I’ve come to—” _Calm down. You’re fine. It’ll be fine._ “I’ve come to turn myself in.”

A pause.

“I see.” There was a bit shuffling on the other end. “You’ve made the right decision, Ranboo.”

The way Sam spoke, firm but benign, formed a knot in his stomach. Guilt clawed at the edges of his mind, but he pushed it down. Now was _not_ the time.

“I’ve unlocked the gates. You can come in.”

Each step through the dark corridor, the sound echoing off its jagged walls, was heavier than the last, as if the ground itself was pulling him in. The sultry air burned at Ranboo’s eyes and throat, but he kept the tears down and he kept swallowing. It’d been awhile since he’d last visited the place, and though he’d always found the way the black stone devoured the low light of glowstones uneasy, now it was… disorienting. Maybe that’d been the intention. To confuse the prisoners, to let them know they’ll never see the sun again, to make them doubt whether this wasn’t just a horrible nightmare.

This prison wasn’t meant to only lock them away, was it?

The people of this land were not known for their mercy, after all.

Sam was waiting for him at the end of the hall, behind the greeting desk, already clutching his set of keys.

He hadn’t drawn his sword. That was good. So far, it was good.

Ranboo wanted to check the watch again, but he refrained. No more than several minutes could have passed. It was _fine._

He stopped several paces away from the warden.

A beat passed.

“Do you have any weapons on you, Ranboo?” he asked.

Ranboo shook his head.

“Anything that could be used as one?”

Another shake.

“Good.” He stepped around the desk. “I knew you would come back eventually. I’m glad we didn’t have to hunt you down instead.”

Ranboo pushed down the rising heat. Everyone always knew Ranboo better than he himself did, huh?

On some level, it was odd. Wasn’t the whole point that they _hadn’t_ known it would be Ranboo of all people who’d help Dream?

Then again.

It was possible to be right and wrong at the same time.

“I shouldn’t have ran,” Ranboo forced the words out of his mouth. He couldn’t lift his eyes to meet Sam’s mask. And masks had never before been an issue. Well, most of them, anyway. “I was just—It was all—I’m—I’m sorry.”

Sam sighed. “I understand. You had every reason to be afraid.” He walked closer to him. Ranboo tried not to flinch back. “But I didn’t lie, and I’m sure you realized that. The fact that you turned yourself in willingly will also be taken into consideration. You won’t receive unjust treatment.”

Right, because as if _that_ was what these people were known for. Justice. Or something.

As if they all didn’t have their personal compasses that had no regard for the direction of anyone else’s.

Sides, people—or themselves. Has there ever been a difference? Or did sometimes, the arrows simply aligned?

Was everyone’s compasses working?

“Sam, before—” He took a moment to steel himself, wringing his hands together. He should look up at Sam. He should appear confident. _Lie until you can’t. Lie until it’s too late._ “Before we… proceed with this, I want to ask—I want to ask a favor of you.”

At Sam’s cocked head, an air of dubiousness about him, Ranboo was quick to elaborate, “I—I realize that’s… odd, considering the, uh, situation, but..!” This wasn’t going as well as he’d wanted it to. “If I’m getting put away for long, I’d want—I—”

“What is it, Ranboo?” Sam cut him off, and he winced.

Deep breaths. In and out. Look up.

“I want to—I want to meet Dream.”

Tension sprung up between them, and Sam straightened, a protest already on his lips, but Ranboo continued, more fervent, “I know how it sounds, I do, but Sam, please, I’m here _because_ of him. He—Sam, he ruined my life,” his voice fell barely above a whisper at the end. “I want—I _need_ him to—I need him to know that.”

Sam shifted his weight, slow, and Ranboo could almost feel the way his stare was burning through him. Sam was not happy about this, that much was obvious.

“Ranboo, I get what you’re saying, but,” he started, hesitant. “You’re smart, you realize why I can’t just allow that.”

“Yeah, I know, yeah, but this isn’t just—Sam, I came here knowing I’ll probably never get out.” He had to pause to breathe. “This is my only—It’s my only chance to get, I don’t know, any sort of—anything! To confront him, to tell him _exactly_ what he did to me, and to just… Sam, listen, I have absolutely nothing on me, please, search me, even if I were planning on something stupid, what would that be? There’s nothing I can do.”

“It’s not really about what you can or can’t do and more about what Dream could do.”

Oh. Ranboo hadn’t actually… considered that.

“Do you think he might hurt me?”

Sam clenched the keys in his hand tighter. Unclenched.

“He’s… unpredictable. Who knows what he could do if he got upset. And, frankly, I doubt seeing you here will make him happy.”

_Given the circumstances of his capture, that is._

“When you’re in the cell with him, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Bitterness settled on his tongue. _Now_ his safety was being considered. Right.

“I don’t care about that,” Ranboo all but bit out. His hands curled into fists. “If I was thinking about my safety and general, you know, well-being, I wouldn’t have come here. I don’t care what happens to my body. I want out of this nightmare that is my head. And I won’t get it unless I confront Dream. After that, lock me up, do what you want, I just—I need this, Sam. Please.”

The silence that followed stretched into infinity. Ranboo wasn’t getting a complete shut-down, which meant Sam was considering his plea. Not as the warden, but as _Sam_. That was all this was banking on, really. Appealing to his human side. Again, guilt twisted his insides, but that bitterness burned through it. It burned through a lot, and maybe his mind was cloudier than he’d realized, but all that didn’t matter right now. His mind had never been clear to begin with.

“Okay,” finally, Sam spoke, slow. “I’ll allow it. But only for a few minutes. The moment you think you’re in danger, you call for me.”

_Because now I’m no good to you dead?_

“Thank you,” he breathed out.

When Sam moved to search Ranboo, he retrieved the only item Ranboo had on him, the pocket watch, and put it away. Still, Ranboo managed to catch one last glance at its face.

Eleven thirty.

As Sam led Ranboo through the prison, an uneasy quiet settled upon them. It was a bit odd Ranboo was still shackle-free, but then again, Sam was armed to the teeth, and Ranboo was… Ranboo. Never a threat. A broken man until the end. He wondered what kind of life Sam had planned out for him already. Would it be any better than Dream’s? Would visitors be an option? Would anyone even want to visit him?

That was an unsettling thought. How much did others know about Ranboo’s involvement? Was it common knowledge, or was Sam keeping it discreet?

When would everyone know? When would they all decide to abandon him? If they hadn’t already?

He hadn’t talked to anyone in weeks.

The whole period between now and the snowy taiga was… a bit of a blur.

Ranboo’s body carried him through the prison while he himself floated somewhere above. To the side. Not really seeing anything. Just silently following instructions. Before long, Sam instructed him to stop before a wall of falling lava.

He remembered it, from his dreams. Or nightmares. Whichever you wanted to call it. Seeing it in real life didn’t make it any less confusing. How could it just keep going without end?

“I’ll stop the flow in a minute,” Sam spoke, making Ranboo jump a bit in surprise. He’d forgotten about him. “This is your last chance to turn back. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Ranboo nodded. He wasn’t, but he could still lie.

“What time is it?” he asked, quiet.

Sam checked his own watch. “Quarter to twelve. I’ll give you ten minutes.”

That wouldn’t be enough. Not nearly. But it was all he could get.

“Okay,” he murmured.

Eventually, the lava parted before him, revealing a hidden bridge connecting the platform and the cell in the middle. It was still too far to make out anyone inside, but Ranboo’s heart nonetheless picked up, bashing at his ribcage. He didn’t trust his legs not to buckle beneath him, but showing weakness now would only give reason for Sam to call this entire thing off. And Ranboo couldn’t afford that. This was, quite literally, his last chance to speak to Dream.

So he stepped onto the bridge, and walked.

The lava closed behind him.

Ranboo might have prefered the heat over cold, but this was borderline unbearable.

At first, Dream looked like he was sleeping. He was sitting on the ground against a wall, one knee bent, hands hooked around it, with his head leaning back, eyes closed. His previous outfit had been exchanged for something formless and colorless, somehow making him seem more washed out than before. Or maybe he was. It’d been a couple of weeks since Ranboo had last seen him, after all. Many things can change. Such as hair. Those curling around his face locks were certainly dirtier than before, somehow. Or the cracked lips, now paler. Or the bruised skin. Now bruised.

If Ranboo focused on all these details, he could try tricking himself into a false sense of calm. Anything to drown out all those panicked voices.

As Ranboo stepped off the bridge into the cell, the lava once more a flowing wall behind him, Dream’s eyes flickered open and found Ranboo’s.

The dull stare froze Ranboo in place.

As distant and empty as it was, it scorched, more than usual. The need to avert his gaze was all consuming, but he willed it to stay. He couldn’t allow himself to appear weak. Not now.

Much to his surprise, Dream was the one that turned away. If Ranboo looked for it, he could see tightness at the corners of his mouth. He blinked, and it was gone.

Time was running out.

He had to say something. He’d wanted to say so much.

Now, though, when he could, words were lost to him.

He swallowed.

“Dream,” the sound left his lips. It tasted odd. He bit it down. “I’ve come to talk to you.”

Dream didn’t respond. He didn’t react at all, actually.

Ranboo took a small step inside the cell. 

The lava behind was scorching his back.

How could Dream breathe in here?

“I need answers. I’m done running away.”

That earned him a soft scoff. As if Dream found the idea ludicrous. Irritation tingled at the edges of his nerves, but he puffed it out.

“Explain what’s been happening to me, Dream,” Ranboo said, as demanding as he dared. “I know you know.”

No answer.

His fingers curled, digging into his palms.

“Don’t ignore m—”

“What does it matter?” Dream cut him off, voice a gravelly murmur. “You’re here now. There’s no point.”

Heat rose up Ranboo’s throat, the building anger, or perhaps desperation, threatening to overtake. There was hardly a difference between the two lately.

He would not allow Dream to waste this opportunity like this.

“It matters to me because it’s my _life_!” Ranboo exclaimed, hand flying up to clench at his chest. Another step forward. “ _My_ life! I deserve to know what’s been happening with it!”

“Your priorities—” Dream drawled, rolling his head to look back at Ranboo. “—are out of order. What good will any answer do you if you’re dead?”

The chill that washed over him was nearly enough to counter the suffocating heat.

“Sam’s not going to kill me,” Ranboo said, the sound distant to his ears.

Dream shrugged. “Maybe not. It won’t take long for you to start begging for it, though.” His eyes momentarily flickered somewhere behind Ranboo. “Or just do it yourself.”

The bubbling horror jumbled up Ranboo’s thoughts, sparks shooting from one to another, not staying long enough for any to fully register. Just a hushed mesh of all the different implications, each more graphic than the last, and Ranboo had to bite into his lip hard enough to draw blood to pull himself out.

 _Relax your body. You’re fine. Time is still ticking. It’ll be fine._

He wasn’t going to die. Nor was he doing to suffer. It would be _okay._

“That doesn’t matter right now. I didn’t come here to—That’s—You’re avoiding my question.”

Dream sighed, turning away again.

A pause.

“You didn’t really ask anything,” he remarked.

While that was technically true, Dream was just being difficult. Not that Ranboo had expected anything else. Still.

He’d thought a lot about what he’d want to say. What he’d want to demand to know. He’d written it all down, too, but, for obvious reasons, he hadn’t brought his book with him. Surely, that wouldn’t matter so much. Surely, he’d rehearsed it all enough.

“Why did you do it?”

The question that left his lips was not one he’d rehearsed.

It took a moment for his mind to register it, before bewilderment bloomed. He hadn’t… He hadn’t wanted to bring that up. The incident was one that fit better in a fever dream than reality, and Ranboo had been prepared to treat it as such for the foreseeable future. All the thoughts that’d sprung up from it only caused his head to ache and his heart to stammer, so he’d been avoiding it for the last few days. Like he’d always do when something made his mind spin.

His tongue betrayed him, though.

“Did what, exactly?”

Dream was taunting him. Of course he was. Even if his tone was blank, he had to be taunting him.

“You know _what_.”

Dream didn’t deign him with a response.

“You had no reason to—to—” Ranboo couldn’t say it. He couldn’t voice the word that he so desperately wished to drown. “I’m not your ally! I’m not your—anything! Why didn’t you just—just—”

“Let you die?” Dream finished it for him. He gave a half-shrug. “Dunno. Heat of the moment. Wasn’t thinking, really. It was like watching a wolf attack a rabbit.” He grew thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, something like that.”

Ranboo laughed, mirthless.

“So, what, when you don’t think, you’re suddenly not a monster?” he huffed. “I don’t believe you. You’ve had to have had an actual reason. Some sort of, I don’t know, ulterior motive. There’s no way you just—There’s no way. You don’t do stuff like that. Especially not for someone like me.”

“Okay, Ranboo, if I’m such a liar and you’re so smart, why do _you_ think I got myself locked up so you wouldn’t?” Dream's voice grew heated as he got to his feet and Ranboo took an instinctual step back. “If I’m such an evil genius, what’s my plan, then?”

“I—I don’t—”

“You don’t know.” It wasn’t a question, but more like a biting statement. “You know what your issue is, Ranboo? Your main one? You don’t _want_ to know. What you want is to believe you do.”

That wasn’t true. That… Dream was just trying to get into his head. Like he always did. But this was the first time the two of them have talked properly, so couldn’t be true, either, right? _Wait, no_ , Ranboo didn’t need to talk to Dream for him to muddle his thoughts. His actions alone spoke enough. He used Ranboo, he took advantage of his more vulnerable state, he made him do things without knowing, he was hearing his voice, he made everyone turn against him, he made him into a puppet, he protected him—

With a choked cry, Ranboo shut his eyes and shook his head, fervent, as he scrambled back, just barely managing to stop before he barreled into the wall of lava. He couldn’t think, his mind was too—All these thoughts, he couldn’t control any of them, which were his, which weren’t? What was the truth and what were just ideas he clung to? 

“Get away from the lava, Ranboo,” Dream warned. “You’re too close.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Ranboo gasped out. “You’re wrong, you’re wrong, you don’t—”

“You’ll get burned if you—”

“Why do you care!?” he snapped, finally shooting his eyes open to look at Dream. He’d gotten closer, his body more tense, on guard, but words continued spilling from Ranboo’s lips like a broken faucet with no regard to that, “You shouldn’t care if I live or die! You’re not supposed to! You just—” Ranboo stopped, a new thought blossoming, and with it, anguish. “Or is it—It’s not about _me_ , is it? It’s about whatever I become when—when—” A sob wrecked him, and he had to take a moment to catch his breath. Dream had gotten as still as a statue, his expression unreadable. “Do you hope I’ll disappear? Fall asleep and never wake up and you’ll have someone who’s more _convenient_? What do you want from me, Dream!?”

Dream said nothing. For a bit, only the popping of lava and Ranboo’s ragged breaths filled the silence, until Dream sighed, went back to his wall and leaned against it, crossing his arms. The swirling yellow light made him appear strangely inanimate.

“Got it out of your system yet?”

Ranboo’s throat had become raw. He heaved around the ache, and, with more force than necessary, wiped away the tears that were threatening to spill. He had enough scars from those already.

“Forget it,” Ranboo grumbled. “That’s not—That’s not why I came here, anyway.”

“Uh huh. So what did you want to know so desperately that you chose to throw your life away for?”

“I didn’t—” He stopped himself, exhaling a deep breath. _Don’t stray again._ “Dream. What I want—no, need to know, is how much of what you said back then was true.”

Dream cocked his head at him, humming. “What exactly?”

“Did I—” Another pause in favor of momentarily closing his eyes. He fought the urge to hug himself. “Did you make me do all those things for you? Or was it—Was I—”

“You’re asking if you had any say in the matter.”

Ranboo swallowed. God, he needed water, and he never needed water.

“Yes.”

Dream stared at him before averting his eyes to the wall.

“Listen, Ranboo,” he sighed. “The thing is, you don’t trust me. So what difference will anything I say make?” He shrugged. “I can just lie. Or you can believe I did. There’s no way for you to know.”

“But—I—”

“If I give you an answer you don’t like, you’ll convince yourself it’s not true. That’s kind of your thing, Ranboo.”

Now, the issue with that statement wasn’t that it was wrong. The issue was that Dream shouldn’t have known that.

They had never spoken before, after all. Dream didn’t know him. He couldn’t have.

And yet.

“Do you think you’re in this mess just because of me?”

Ranboo wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe he couldn’t control himself, he wanted to believe he was pulled along against his will. Or, just, hadn’t known what he was doing. That’d be so easy to do, and Ranboo could go about the rest of his life clinging to that idea.

Doubt would always follow him, though. Because no, he didn’t know. He only hoped. Believed. The alternative was…

“Tell me the truth, Dream,” he heard himself speak. He’d gone deeper into the small room. “No, tell me _your_ truth. I’ll believe you.”

For the first time, Dream laughed. “Ah, so that’s the loophole you found, huh? My truth and yours don’t have to be the same. I guess that works, too.”

Ranboo was closer now. Halfway across the cell. His eyes wouldn’t leave Dream.

Dream had an empty grin across his face.

It fell, after a moment.

“My truth is that I didn’t make you do anything. I didn’t have to. Whether you’re just highly susceptible or something else, I don’t know. I didn’t look into it.”

Ranboo was only a few paces away. With a strange new clarity, as if observing it all from the side, he considered that.

Yeah, there was no way to tell if Dream was lying or not. Then again, why would he? Then again, when didn’t he?

“You’re not telling me everything.”

Dream huffed, his lips curling up.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” He looked at Ranboo with an odd sort of glint. “Maybe I just don’t want to. I’m quite a private person, y’know.”

“Why did you protect me?”

“I told you. Like watching a rabbit getting slaughtered. Not a pretty sight. Pitiful.”

“I don’t believe you. You don’t do things out of pity.”

“And how would _you_ know that?” Dream narrowed his eyes at him.

No answer.

Dream leaned in. 

“Or maybe that rabbit was my pet. I like those a lot, actually.”

Ranboo fisted his hands by his sides, jaw clenching.

“I’m not your pet.”

Dream considered him for a moment with a thoughtful hum. “No, you’re not. Still a rabbit, though.”

Before Ranboo could retort, the sound of shifting lava caught his attention and he glanced back.

With cold dread, he realized his time had to be up.

“And that’s that, then,” Dream remarked. “Hope it was worth it, Ranboo.”

Ranboo looked back at him, panic building. No, he wasn’t done yet, he’d gotten barely anything out of Dream, this wasn’t enough, this wasn’t nearly enough—

Time was ticking. Time was flying.

Ranboo didn’t trust himself. _That_ was the issue. And how could he, really? He rejected every single thing he’d done when he was in that other state, he disowned that part of him. Because it couldn’t be part of him. That wasn’t him. He was here, now, having these thoughts, experiencing this heat and dryness, he had intentions, he had wishes, but he didn’t… This was him, no doubt about it, but it wasn’t the full picture.

As long as he kept fighting it tooth and nail, it would never be truly him.

“You’re wrong, Dream,” Ranboo proclaimed, closing whatever distance there was left between them. A few seconds left. “You’re wrong about me. I’ll figure out who I actually am, and you’re going to help me whether you want to or not.”

Dream quirked a brow at that, questioning, then alarmed when Ranboo latched onto his arm.

“What are you—”

Space tore, air disappeared, and within a blink, the heat was gone, replaced by a cool breeze.

Ranboo staggered, managing to remain on his feet as the world once more came into focus. He gasped for the delicious oxygen, never before loving the taste of coldness this much before. He breathed the night in, and let his eyes readjust to the darkness.

A shocked laugh pulled his focus, and he looked over to see Dream examining the little contraption he’d set up before, now slightly snowed over. The specks of white danced around them, melting on Ranboo’s skin, but the aftermath of the trip had made his senses numb.

That, and some other things.

God, he was going to have _such_ a headache tomorrow.

“A timed stasis chamber,” Dream marvelled, his hands dusting over the glass. “Okay, I’ll admit, I’m impressed. These are stupidly hard to pull off.”

Ranboo shifted in the snow, mildly uncomfortable by the praise.

“I wasn’t going to just… let myself get locked up like that. Even if I deserve to be.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Dream took a step back, and turned his face upwards, closing his eyes with a sigh. Ranboo watched as the white snowflakes gathered on his lashes.

The image was… conflicting.

“Well, I’m definitely not gonna be able talk Sam out of killing you _now_ ,” Dream said. Sensing Ranboo’s tension, he opened an eye and cast him a side-glance. “You didn’t think this through at all, did you?”

“I… didn’t really think.”

“Ah, yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before.” He let more snow turn to drops on his skin. “My sentiment still stands—hope it’ll be worth it.”

It probably wouldn’t be. But that wasn’t the point.

Apart from what the point was, an odd sense of elation bubbled somewhere within. It mixed with the dread, the shame, the guilt, the terror, but it was undeniably there. A wild sort of thing, untameable, fleeting. He’d have people hunting him down like before, but this time, he’d know what for. This time, he was the one responsible for it.

The thought both terrified and exhilarated him.

“I may be in the same boat as you now, but I’m not going to let you continue your destructive ways,” Ranboo finally broke the silence. His voice sounded so distant. He could barely hear it. “This doesn’t make me your ally.”

Dream pulled a crooked smile at him.

“Just someone who’s goals align with mine, huh?” His voice was airy. “I’ve heard that before, too.”

And really, everyone had their own north, anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> This sort of thing has been sitting in my mind for so long and I just had to indulge myself ahaha. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and thank u sm for reading!!❤️
> 
> casually dropping down my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yumgrapejuice/) if any of y'all wanna give a follow eyy


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